Ian was standing there, talking quietly with Rhone. When he saw us, he groaned and turned to leave.
“Ian, you can’t stay mad at me forever,” I said.
“Piss off, Liam, I’m sick of your shit,” he replied, his eyes shooting daggers at me.
“For fuck’s sake, it was just one verse that I changed.”
“You know that pisses me off, Liam. You know everything that pisses me off, and you do it anyway. You have no respect for me,” Ian seethed.
“Sure I do,” I replied. “I couldn’t do this without you.”
“Well, you have a seriously fucked up way of showing it, mate!” he yelled, before shoving past me, leaving Catherine and I standing alone on the balcony. I watched through the windows as he left the room, thundering past the dozens of people inside. They all turned back, watching for my reaction.
Who could blame them? It was a classic Liam move they were waiting for. Surely, I’d throw a chair, hurl an insult at Ian’s back, or throw my drink or something, right? What would it be tonight?
I was so tired of the old Liam. I didn’t feel like doing any of those things.
In fact, there was only one thing on my mind, and she was standing in front of me like a fuckin’ siren just waiting to put me under her spell.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” I said, grabbing Catherine’s hand and going back in, streaming past all the curious eyes, leaving them behind to make up whatever story they wanted to.
I didn’t give a fuck anymore what anyone said about me. No matter what I did, every one just thought the same thing about me anyway.
Let them say whatever they wanted. Let Catherine print her story, hell, print the truth, I didn’t care. Tell the world that they were right. Liam Mercury is a piece of shit, a loser, a disrespectful, immature, spoiled party boy. None of that mattered right now. None of it ever really did.
I was surprised, but Catherine let me lead her down the hallway to my room without any protest at all. In fact, she hadn’t said a word.
“Now, where were we?” I said, putting my drink down and pulling her into my arms as soon as the door closed behind us.
“We were just going to find a place to talk, remember?” Her eyes flashed up at me and breathed in her fresh, peachy scent. My cock had wilted a little during the Ian fiasco, but now it came back to life in an instant. Her skin was smooth under my fingertips and I trailed my hands over her arms and up to her chin, lingering at her face, running my thumb along the thickness of her bottom lip.
“Is that what you want, luv? To talk?” I asked, my voice thick with desire.
Her lips parted and she nodded silently.
“Is that all, luv?” I lowered my head, the promise of her luscious lips pulling me closer. The last thing I wanted to do was talk. I wanted to forget about everything and loose myself in discovering every inch of her. Her breathe was hot against my lips as I inched closer and just before I made contact, she turned her head, my lips landing on her cheek.
“Liam, we shouldn’t,” she protested, her hand on my chest, pushing me away.
“Why the bloody hell not?” I asked. I couldn’t think of one good reason why we still had our fuckin’ clothes on.
“I’m here to write a story about you, not fuck you,” she said, turning and walking away. She walked over and sat on the couch that lined the wall of my suite. Her long legs jutted out away from her body, and I couldn’t stop looking at them. She crossed them at her ankles, and I imagined myself wedged between them, my head lowering until I could taste her sweet pussy.
“You don’t fancy a fuck?” I asked, jokingly. Humor had a way of breaking through all barriers.
She laughed, throwing her pretty head back and exposing that long, smooth neck.
I sat down next to her and she turned towards me.
“You never stop, do you?”
“Stop? Stop what?”
“Slow down. Turn it down a notch. It’s like you’re always ‘on’.”
“I don’t really think anyone wants me to turn anything down,” I replied. “I’m expected to be like this. You should see what happens when I stay in my room and read a book. Everyone loses their shit.”
She nodded, looking at me thoughtfully. Her hair was flowing over her shoulders in loose waves, and I reached over and ran my fingers through it.
“Work, Liam. We’re here to work,” she said.
“I’m tired of working. You can interview me tomorrow. Let’s talk about you,” I said. “I’m bored to tears with me.”
“Okay, what do you want to know?” she asked.
“Tell me something that most people don’t know about you,” I said.
“Hmm, well…let’s see,” she replied, her eyes darting away from me. It took all my strength not to lick her neck. She was so close, so fuckin’ beautiful, it hurt not to touch her. “I’m a songwriter.”
“What!” I exclaimed, pulling back and looking at her face. “No shit!”
“Yep,” she said. A gleam appeared in her eye, and I could tell she had just told me something she was very proud of.
“Have you written anything I’ve heard of?”
“Maybe…”
“Well, bloody tell me already!” The sound of her laughter was like music to my ears. I wasn’t expecting her to say she was a songwriter. It was the only thing I couldn’t do better than Ian, which I regretted terribly, but I’d learned to live with it. Hell, if it wasn’t for Ian’s songwriting abilities, we’d never have gotten out of our parent’s basement.
“I wrote ‘Fade Away’, it was recorded by the Honey Bees.”
“The top US girl band? I know that song!”
“Yeah, that’s them,” she replied, looking down shyly.
“What else?” I asked.
“The Dreams recorded a song I wrote called ‘Love Bomb’.”
“You fuckin’ wrote Love Bomb? I love that bloody song! It’s so catchy,” I replied. “I’m so impressed. I had no idea.”
“Yeah, but nobody remembers the names of songwriters, they only remember the singers.”
“I can’t write a song to save my life. I mean, I’ve tried, I’ve written a few, but that’s Ian’s job. I guess that’s why he gets so pissed when I change the words. Whatever,” I shrugged. I looked at her curiously, seeing her in a new light. “Maybe we could write a song together.”
“What?” she asked. “I don’t think so. I haven’t done that in so long, and surely Ian wouldn’t like that.”
“Ian can piss off. Maybe I’ll venture out, do some solo work.”
“I’m sure you’re not a bad songwriter, Liam. Maybe you shouldn’t listen to Ian so much. He can’t be right about everything.”
“No, but he sure as fuck thinks he is,” I replied. “And you’re right, I can do whatever the fuck I want. I don’t need his permission. But I don’t want to talk about Ian.” I finished off the whiskey in my glass and poured more. I was delighted to see her glass was empty as well, and I filled it up. Her shoulders had relaxed, and she’d loosened up a little, her hair falling in her face. She licked some whiskey off her lips and my cock twitched.
“Is it hard on you? Fighting with him so much?” she asked.
“No, not at all.” Fucking Ian. Why did she insist on talking about him?
“Rhone thinks it’s hard on Ian,” she replied.
“If he wasn’t so fuckin’ upti
ght, we wouldn’t fight so much.”
“I see,” she replied, sipping the drink I handed her.
“Can we stop, please?” I asked.
“Stop what?” She looked over at me and licked her lips again. My cock throbbed painfully and I shifted in my seat. I was getting tired of this patient guy routine very quickly.
“Let’s stop pretending, Catherine,” I said, lowering my voice. I reached out, pushing the strand of hair away from her cheek. “Stop wasting time. Stop acting like this night isn’t going to end with us tangled up in the sheets together.”
“Liam, I’m not here for that, I —,” she began, her eyes wide with surprise at my blatant words.
I interrupted her with a kiss. I couldn’t help it. Before I knew it, my lips were smashing into hers. I needed her. I needed to feel her next to me, to taste her like I’d been imagining doing, to sink myself inside of her and never leave.
“Liam, stop —,” she said, pushing me away again. If it weren’t for the lust in her eyes, I’d think she wasn’t into it. But she was. I knew it. She knew it.
There’s only two things in this world that I’m an expert at.
Reading a crowd and reading a woman.
“Catherine, I’m tired of pussyfooting around, luv. We’re grown fuckin’ adults. We’re all alone. Nobody’s going to know, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I reached back behind her head, tangling my fingers in her hair and gently pulling back until she gasped, her lips open and inviting me inside. “Tell me you don’t want it, Catherine. Tell me you don’t want me to fuck you.”
She looked at me, her eyes wide with a mixture of desire and hesitation.
“Say it, Catherine,” I said, pulling her hair back just a tiny bit harder, her back arching up against me, her heavin' tits threatening to escape from her dress. She moaned, a low, guttural moan that shot right to my cock.
“Liam…” she whispered.
“Tell me you don’t want my cock, luv,” I growled. “I’ll leave you alone. Never touch you again.” I pulled a little harder on her hair and smiled as I watched her nipples harden beneath the fabric of her dress, jutting out in little points. “Look at those beautiful nipples, Catherine.”